


You Can Leave Your Hat On

by Medie



Category: due South
Genre: Community: fandom_stocking, M/M, Post-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-13
Updated: 2014-01-13
Packaged: 2018-01-08 14:11:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1133586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Medie/pseuds/Medie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Canadians are assholes, don't let anybody tell you different.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Can Leave Your Hat On

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Wagnetic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wagnetic/gifts).



> Was damn near tempted to title this 'no, Mounties don't always look like that, hot damn most of the time they're even better' but, oddly, that's a little long for a title.

Once, Ray Kowalski believed a lot of things about Canada. He knew a Canadian; he was both sleeping with and chasing criminals around town with said Canadian. He might not have gone so far as to call himself an expert on Canadians and their beloved Truth North (Strong _and_ Free™). 

Yeah, that lasted as long as it took to move. Spend a few years chasing poachers around the backwoods of a Canadian territory and you realize, in fact, chasing a Canadian cop around a midsize American city does not even make you an expert on that Canadian.

Something, at least, Ben's too polite to tell him. Not too polite to laugh at him about it (Canadians are assholes, don't let anybody tell you different) but still too polite to _say so_.

That, at least, is still the same, but the rest of it? Yeah, he knows nothing, but at this point, it doesn't matter anyway. 

Ray's kinda bored.

Believe it or not, really, but there are only so many times in the run of a day that a guy can drag his hot Mountie husband into bed before it gets to be a routine. There's not even a thrill anymore. Everyone around here knows everybody else's routines so the not!surprise!sex is probably as punctual as Mrs. George's cat chasing coyotes.

Seriously, the locals in town start snickering every time Ray so much as goes near the detachment. 

"I can't look 'em in the eye anymore, Ben," he confesses one night, ignoring the way Fraser's shoulder shakes a little underneath him. Yeah, he's pretty much been laughing his ass off in that polite Canuck way of his since they crossed the border. 

To be fair, Ray's pretty sure he's got it coming. All those years of culture shock and now the snowshoe's on the other foot. Ha ha, eh?

"You encourage them, Ray," Ben says, patient as the day is long. "If you weren't so embarrassed about it, they wouldn't find it nearly that funny." 

"Can't help it, Frase," Ray sighs into his shoulder. "They _know_. I'm not good with people knowing that much about me. S'just not right." Seriously, until you've been given the wink-wink-nudge-nudge by a tiny aboriginal grandma, you cannot understand the depths to which his horror can plumb.

Seriously. She's a grandma of _six_. She has _cats_. Sure, the cats are practically the size of huskies, but that is so not the point. A tiny, white-haired, rosy-cheeked grandma knows when he's jumping Ben Fraser's bones and she _approves_.

Ray shudders just thinking about it. 

"Perhaps, though, it's just as well," Ben says, somewhat sheepish and Ray has to lift his head for this one. He knows that tone and it sounds _interesting_. "I have been considering a transfer. Unfortunately, it would seem Diefenbaker is not the only one grown used to city life."

Ray tries not to yell 'oh thank GOD' and dance around the room. Being naked and curled up with an equally naked Ben makes that pretty easy, but that doesn't mean he hides his reaction well at all. 

In fact, it's probably written all over his face with how indulgent Ben sounds as he says, "It would seem the RCMP will require a new and equally amorous marriage to keep Mrs. George and her ilk suitably entertained."

"And we can get back to normal," Ray says, sliding down Ben's chest. 

"Yes," Ben agrees, voice quite happily strained, "Normal."

*

Which, no, this is Canada. There is no normal. There is only the next curve ball and, boy, is this one a doozy.

*

He expects the patrol car. They're in a city big enough to have a proper detachment and paved roads so Ben needs a car, but...

Seriously, what the hell?

He stumbles into the kitchen of their apartment their first, frigid (of course) morning in Moose Jaw (yes, really, Canadians name their cities after animal anatomy) to find Ben suiting up for his shift.

He blames the lack of coffee on the fact he doesn't notice it at first. Well, that's the story he's going with, but he's also pretty sure he's never been that caffeine deprived in his life.

Ray takes in the bright yellow stripe up Ben's leg in with a slow, disbelieving look. "What is that?" he finally manages, blinking.

Fraser looks at him. "My leg, Ray."

His leg. Right. "You know, how anybody in Chicago missed the part where you're kind of a sarcastic bastard is beyond me." Ray picks up Fraser's abandoned coffee. He needs it more than Ben does. "Yes, I'm aware it's your _leg_ , Frase, but what the hell is that thing on it?"

Fraser's eyes twinkle a bit when he says, "My pants, Ray."

"I swear to God I will never blow you again if you do not answer me straight," and yes, Ray is aware of the irony in that. He's not _that_ sleepy. "What the hell are you wearing?"

"My uniform, Ray," Something that might be a grin sneaks its way on to Ben's face as he picks up, hang on, his _bulletproof vest_ and slides into it. "Well, admittedly not all of it, but the basics."

Ray downs half the coffee and shakes his head. "And the shocking lack of serge is because--?"

"One can hardly wear one's dress uniform on _patrol_." Oh yeah, the Mountie thinks he's funny. 

"You managed it just fine in Chicago," Ray points out. "And I don't remember one of those making an appearance down there," he nods at the vest. "Or up north if we're really going to get picky about it."

"Regulation, Ray," Ben says, strapping on his gun and tactical belt before pulling on his heavy overcoat. "Also good common sense. There are far more handguns here than in the Territories, despite all efforts to stem the tide across the border." He grimaces at that, then picks up his hat. It's new too and Ray frowns.

"You can't even keep the hat?" He can hear the pout in his own voice, but damn it, he likes the hat. The hat has fond memories attached to it. Especially those memories that involve Ben wearing nothing but the hat. 

God, Ray loves a good stetson when it comes with a buck naked Mountie underneath. 

Ben settles his hat on his head and grins. It's a little sly and a lot familiar. It's the kind of smile that Ray's learned to associate with long nights in front of the fire and, yeah, Ben in nothing but that hat. "I like that hat."

Ben grins, closing the distance between them in a couple steps and then dropping his head for a kiss. 

When Ray obliges him, he murmurs, "I can keep the hat," he affirms, "But it's to be reserved for special occasions," against Ray's lips. 

He waits until Ben steps back before saying, "We talking visiting dignitaries kind of special or, say, sex?" 

Ben's lips curl up into a little smirk and the only answer Ray gets is another kiss before he leaves.

"Goddamn it," Ray sighs, "He means a run to Timmy's."

Seriously, _Canadians_.


End file.
